Evenhanded Justice
by Laume
Summary: Where the PC does what the game does not allow, and saves the author from the frustration of the game.


**A/N: Replaying Neverwinter Nights and being immensely frustrated with the end of Chapter 1. This is what I really would like my PC to do. My current PC is named Owain, so I've used him for this fic.**

Owain glared at the back of the bound Helmite walking before him. Desther! Part of him wished he had killed the man back at Helms Hold. He looked over his shoulder at the empty building that was slowly fading from view as the small group returned to Neverwinter. It would take the priests of Tyr some very heavy duty cleansing of the place before it was usable again.

And he had the dubious task of taking both Desther and Fenthick back to Neverwinter to face 'justice'. He severely doubted there would be any. Oh – Desther deserved a thousand deaths for what he had done, but in many ways the Helmite had already received his punishment. Desther had been discarded like a useless tool, and to the proud man who had such high dreams of power that must be worse than the death that awaited him. No doubt his end would be suitably brutal to quench the bloodthirst of the plague inflicted populace.

Behind him, accompanied by Linu's comforting presence, Fenthick stumbled on, unbound. There was little need. Fenthick had already tried and condemned himself, whatever were to happen at the city would be mere formality to him. The slender man avoided looking at his erstwhile friend, the pain of the betrayal too heavy to bear. Desther likewise ignored Fenthick, not out of shame, but because to Desther, Fenthick had only ever been a means to an end. The goal had not been reached, there was only death now – Desther had no use for Fenthick, nothing to offer him. No apologies, no explanations, not even the assurance that at some point, their friendship had indeed been genuine. Fenthick had thrown everything away for nothing.

"Owain?" Linu pulled a healing kit from her bag and proceeded to rewrap Owains ribs.

"Yes? Ah, thank you, Linu."

"What will happen to Fenthick now? He really wasn't to blame…"

"I suppose their mercy to him will extend only so far that he will suffer a less brutal death than Desther," Owain replied grimly, "his unwavering trust in Desther will be seen as betrayal."

"Could we not set him free? Here, on the road? Escape would be so easily explained here."

"He would not go, Linu," Owain sighed, "He is convinced of his own guilt."

"It is hardly justice," Linu exclaimed.

"Very little about this has been just," her companion stared ahead, his hand on his fractured ribs, "very little. A revolt just after this plague would destroy Neverwinter completely. And a revolt can only be prevented by a sacrifice – a death for a death, regardless of innocence or guilt. In the end, Fenthick would still do what he has been prepared to do all along – give his life for Neverwinter."

ssssssssssssssss

After the long trek back to Neverwinter, Desther and Fenthick were both taken to the cells immediately while a concerned and sleep-deprived Aribeth finished healing Owains wounds.

"Lord Nasher will proclaim the fate of Desther and…and F-Fenthick tomorrow," she told the tired Ranger, "The priests have worked long and hard, and the wailing has come to an end. The city will soon be healed, but to what end? Greater forces were at work here."

"I know," Owain began to give in to the lure of sleep, "the Guardian of Helm…told me…"

Linu shrugged apologetically at Aribeth as she made her way to another bedroll. "It was a long, hard fight," she excused them, "we are exhausted…"

"I understand," the Paladin of Tyr replied with a small, sad smile as she stared at the somnolent Ranger, "Sleep. You have done all we asked of you, and more, Owain."

ssssssssss

A large crowd had gathered in Lord Nasher's halls, angry whispers running through the crowds. That quickly turned to infuriated shouts as Desther and Fenthick were led, heavily guarded, towards Lord Nasher's throne room. Fenthick kept his eyes to the ground, his face full of sorrow, but Desther sneered at the gathered crowd with hateful eyes. The guards deflected the various items thrown at the two, but did not reprimand the throwers. They merely shrugged it off and moved, slowly, towards their ultimate goal.

Lord Nasher Alagondar sat on his throne, his sword across his knees. By his side stood Aribeth de Tylmarande, her face impassive. Lord Nasher held up his hand for silence, and with some difficulty the people complied.

"A most grievous, almost unimaginable crime has taken place," Nasher began, "one for which no punishment exists that would properly reflect the lives lost, the suffering the entire city has gone through, the terrible betrayal of trust – trust people put in Helm, but false Helmites have preyed upon. For this there is no excuse, but I will offer you the opportunity to provide one all the same."

Desther laughed maniacally. "An excuse? I need no excuse! My work was for a greater goal, and though I have now been abandoned, the work will continue. You will see…you will see…"

Gasps of outrage ran through the room and the guards had trouble containing the various people trying to break through the ranks to lynch the false Helmite themselves.

"I have only been thwarted by that young whelp you sent for!" Desther's voice rose above the crowds, "He will pay the highest price for his interference! Perhaps already has, since he dares not show his face here!"

"ENOUGH!!!" Nasher Alagondar thundered, "Desther, at sunset today you will be taken to the square in the City Core and burned at the stake! Lead him away!"

This verdict was met with much approval from the crowd, and it took five guards to escort the Helmite safely back to the dungeons.

Now the attention turned to the silent second prisoner.

"Fenthick, Desther's accomplice," Lord Nasher began, "do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Just as the man began to shake his head, a voice rang through the hall.

"I will speak for him."

Questioning whispers ran through the hall, while Owain stepped forward, Linu at his side.

"Owain…" Fenthick began, holding up his hand, but one look from the Ranger silenced him.

"This is most unusual," Lord Nasher began.

"These are unusual times," Owain calmly pointed out, "and an innocent man should not die merely because of a formality."

"Innocent, you claim? Was he not Desthers friend? Did he not follow him to Helm's Hold?" the Lord inquired.

"Indeed he was, and he did. He trusted Desther, and followed him in hopes for an explanation, to turn Desther from evil if he could."

"He was in charge of the hunt for the people behind the Wailing Death, yet he failed to see the warnings you yourself brought him led to Desther."

Owain raised his chin. "He did. As did you yourself, Lord Nasher Alagondar, when I warned you about Desther just before the Ritual began. If Fenthick is guilty of too much trust, then you yourself are also. No man would want to believe his best friend capable of this kind of betrayal."

He fully faced Lord Nasher now. "I was at Helms Hold! I know what I found there! There has been an evil at work that can scarcely be described. Do not blame Fenthick for not wanting to believe a Helmite, of all people, capable of such betrayal."

Whispers ran through the crowd, some angry, some doubtful. Lord Nasher looked chagrined at having his own words thrown at him, his own dismissal of the doubts the young Ranger before him had expressed.

"Regardless, Fenthick had given Desther…"

"And you all knew!" Owain exclaimed, "You all knew. You were all too trusting of Desther, but no one had as good a reason as Fenthick, as his best friend. Aribeth disliked Desther, yet she did not suspect his betrayal either. You saw no reason for mistrust."

He turned to the people.

"I have given my best efforts to Neverwinter in an effort to cure the Wailing. I have taken no reward save what I needed to keep on working for her. Have you known me to be deceitful? Have you known me to be a fool? I have been to Helm's Hold, I say to you, Fenthick was not in league with Desther. Naïve he maybe have been, too trusting of one he considered his friend, but these are not crimes! Indeed, were there more men like him we would not have to fear such horrors as the Wailing Death. To execute Fenthick along with Desther would be a grave mistake. Tyr, the even-handed, smiles not upon such bloodlust that kills the innocent along with the guilty."

"You go too far, Owain," Lord Nasher's discomfort turned to irritation, "I rule this city, not you."

"No one denies it," Owain's face tightened, "but I have not worked so hard for the good only to see it end in evil. I have done what you asked of me, and more, but you cannot ask of me to ally myself with a cause that commits such obvious injustice."

Aribeth's eyes widened, and Lord Nasher's grip in his sword tightened. It was all too clear what Owain was saying – and the young recruit had grown into a formidable force. There were others, for sure, Lord Nasher was by no mean defenceless, but the Ranger had already proven that he could accomplish what his troops could not. They would need him. Alienating him would be a grave mistake, yet allowing Fenthick to go…

Suddenly the Lord of Neverwinters thoughts were interrupted by a small but powerful figure stepping from the crowds.

Harben Ashensmith moved to Owains side. "I will take Owains word for it," he simply said, "things are often not as they seem, and Owain has seen more of this evil than any of us. Who better to judge who is guilty of what than him?"

A shock ran through the crowd. Harben Ashensmith certainly was no man to trifle with.

A young noblewoman joined them. "I trust Owain. Thanks to him, the citizens are fed and healthy again. He claimed no reward beyond what he needed to provide for himself. If he says this man committed no crime, I will give him the benefit of the doubt," Formosa boldly stated.

A few of the gate guards, summoned there to keep order, turned around. "Some of our men would be dead if not for Owain," an older guard stated, "I meself would still be in the wizard's cells."

Owain nodded to them, grateful for their trust.

"Fenthick can make amends for what mistakes he did make," Owain proposed, "There is work to be done yet, and you will need capable men, Lord Nasher."

A little more quiet he added, "Let him come with us to Port Llast and make himself useful to our cause."

Nasher eyed the crowds. They certainly did not appear about to lynch Fenthick as they had looked at Desther. Many faces showed trust when they looked at Owain, and those that did not know the Ranger, at least appeared doubtful. Aribeth, next to him, was obviously trying very hard to quench the spark of hope Owains passionate plea for Fenthick had ignited in her. What would her lovers unjust death do to her, Lord Nasher wondered. If Fenthick was merely guilty of too much trust, as Owain had claimed, Tyr would indeed not be overly pleased with his execution.

"Very well," Lord Nasher gave in, "On Owains word you shall live, Fenthick."

The crowd kept very quiet. There was no booing or cheering of any kind. The people standing by Owain remained there, important citizens all, holding the respect of the people. At long last, Nasher reached a decision.

"But you will be bound in servitude to Owain until you have proven trustworthy again, and until you have made amends. Should he be mistaken and you prove yourself to be a traitor nevertheless, then the responsibility is his, as is the duty to slay you were you stand on that day. Furthermore, you are banished from the city of Neverwinter for the duration of five years. Am I clear on this?"

Fenthick nodded. His eyes held no joy, not yet, and Owain had not expected it. The grief and guilt would have to heal in Fenthick as well before he could begin to consider forgiving himself. But when Owain caught Aribeth's grateful eyes, he knew that there was now, at least, a chance for a happy outcome.


End file.
